Memories
by The Bad Luck Kid
Summary: The things we remember and the things we don't. Separate short stories centering around the Noah Clan members. In progress. No pairings.


**Memories**

Chapter 1: Skinn

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Skinn Boric remembers his life before he awakened as one with a memory of Noah. It wasn't very long ago, after all. He remembers living in America and he remembers some of his childhood. He remembers his kindly mother raising him to be a good, honest man some day. He remembers how she wasn't angry at all when he left school at fifteen to go to work to help out their little household. He remembers that they didn't have much money, but that his mother made sure he was never cold. He remembers when she fell ill. He remembers feeling alone after she died. He also remembers his first day at the shipyard and he remembers liking his co-workers even though they didn't show any particular interest in him. They were all there and they were working together, and that was enough. If he tries really hard, he can even almost conjure up the faces and names of people he might have been friends with. Almost.

He remembers that these memories used to be so much clearer before the autumn of his twenty-fifth year, before they became vague and obscured. He remembers that time all too well. He remembers waking up at odd times after having strange dreams that bothered him, although he couldn't quite recall them. He remembers itching at his forehead after a particularly unsettling one and being shocked when his fingers hit slick, warm blood. He remembers how the marks deepened and bled over the next couple of weeks and how he began to feel something unexplainable within himself. He remembers being certain, although he wasn't sure why, that it was all somehow connected to a character from a Bible story he'd heard long ago. He remembers having strange fits of anger that were unlike him and he remembers becoming enraged at a co-worker at the shipyard and bashing him on the head with a heavy piece of crate. He remembers how still the man was on the ground and how thankful he was that nobody else had seen. He remembers telling everyone there'd been an accident and he remembers the priest who came. He remembers thinking, fearfully, that it was time to talk to someone about this.

He barely remembers the kindly priest's face. Only that the man took him in without asking for a single penny once he saw the scars on his forehead. He remembers that it wasn't long before the terrible pain began. It would come and go in waves, sometimes lasting only hours and sometimes days on end. This is only what he remembers being told, because to him it seemed as if each time were a terrible eternity. The time spent with the priest is difficult to remember, both literally and figuratively. He does remember unspeakable pain and a welling, impossible rage so deep and dark and terrible that he'd scream and weep to the patient but frightened priest because it all felt so much bigger than him. So much bigger than he could ever understand, and it physically hurt. He remembers how it seemed so cruel that just when his mind felt like it was ripping apart, the pain would teasingly melt away only to leave him in slumber interrupted by dreams of terror and rage and sorrow so incomprehensible that there weren't even any images or sounds. They were beyond that.

Skin doesn't actually remember meeting Road and The Millennium Earl very clearly. He doesn't even remember chewing his fingertips until they bled in an attempt to focus his pain and stay awake. He remembers the soothing, impossibly understanding words the strange man spoke to him and he remembers the little girl pulling his battered hands away from his face and popping a candy in his mouth. He remembers how the strange man spoke of going "home". In all his haze of pain and confusion, he remembered that "home" meant somewhere warm and good as the candy melted in his mouth spreading a pacifying sweetness that spread a prickling warmth of its own all though him. He remembers this detail very well. He remembers how sweet it was, how such a small thing could be such a comfort at such a time. He remembers how the sweet candy and the sweet words seemed to chase his pain away.

Skinn Boric remembers his life before he awakened as one with a memory of Noah. Even though those memories are fading quickly away, he isn't sad. He sometimes wishes they'd fade a little faster. It's not that they make him angry or that he doesn't like them. They're just insignificant next to the truth of the world he now knows. Yet still, when he realizes he can't remember his mother's face or the feeling of his childhood bed he feels as if he's lost something even warmer than sweets.

He can't remember why.


End file.
